Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
I hated hearing my name next to Antonio’s, but it gave me the push I needed to tell the driver not to return to the Adami compound. I asked him to take me to the Caruso residence instead.
Antonio idolizes Matteo.
Antonio envies Matteo.
Antonio wants what Matteo has.
And somehow, I needed to become a major part of that equation.
The memory fades as the maid stops in front of a large, gleaming door. With a polite nod, she opens it and I enter, dragging my suitcase behind me.
Immediately, my confusion spikes.
The room is too girly to belong to a man as dangerous as Matteo Caruso. Floral curtains cover the floor-to-ceiling windows, pastel bedding makes it clear whoever designed this room truly believes a bed is only used for sleep, and a cushioned stool rests under a vanity mirror I swear my grandmother owns.
Absolutely nothing about it feels like Matteo. Not the colors, the furniture, or the atmosphere.
“Is this Matteo’s room?” I ask, turning toward the maid.
She stiffens, her eyes lowering to her gleaming white shoes.
“No English,” she says quickly.
I don’t know her, but I know she’s a fool. Lying is punishable by death in most mafia families. How do I know she’s lying? She spoke perfect English downstairs.
I narrow my eyes before playing this game like a true connoisseur of dangerous situations. “Davvero? E allora perché parlavi inglese un minuto fa?”
She freezes but remains quiet.
I cross my arms, hardening my stance. “Rispondi.”
Her throat works hard to swallow before she proves her foolhardiness by replying in English. “This isn’t Signor Matteo’s room. It’s where he brings… women.”
Women.
Plural.
My stomach twists until an ugly, unmovable lump forms beneath my ribs. “Women?”
She nods before wincing like she expects me to explode.
I’m about to respond with something I’ll probably regret later when the bathroom door swings open.
A woman steps out.
An extremely beautiful woman.
She’s wearing silky lingerie that’s absolutely not meant for public viewing. Her hair is perfect, and her skin shines with effortless flawlessness.
If I weren’t such a girly girl, I’d hate her on sight.
I don’t hate her. I just dislike the circumstances behind my desperation.
When she notices me, she freezes halfway to the bed. “Oh… You’re not Matteo.”
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m not.”
Her lips hike up at one side. “I had an inkling he’d want to spice things up eventually, but I had no clue he’d take this route.” Lust sparks through her eyes as she drags them down my frozen form. “I’m not disappointed. You’re gorgeous.” Her smile announces she’s accustomed to being admired. “Come in. He shouldn’t be too far away. He usually comes by around this time.”
It’s a struggle to express my words without sounding bitchy, but I pull it off. Just. “What’s your hourly rate?”
Her megawatt smile falters. “Sorry?”
“I’m not judging.” I wave my hand through the air in a manner my mother would be proud of. “We all need to make a living. All I’m interested in finding out is what he pays you… so I can double it for you to leave before he gets here.” My last sentence leaves my mouth in a hurry.
Her teeth graze her lower lip. “Double of nothing is still nothing, sweetie.”
I blink, shocked. “He doesn’t pay you?”
“No, he doesn’t.” After dumping shower products into a bag by the bed, she flops onto the mattress. “He’s never offered, but I have no desire to charge him either. Who in their right mind would? Have you seen him? He’s gorgeous, and his cock is…” An inappropriate moan cuts off her reply and fills the room with negative energy.
Jealousy strikes so fast that it’s mortifying. A hot, irrational flare shoots through my head, scattering my thoughts. Momentarily, I consider backing out of my plan entirely, but then my gaze catches something small and familiar on my wrist.
The friendship bracelet tied around my wrist many moons ago is as fragile as my ego now feels, but it’s a silent reminder of a promise I can’t break.
I straighten up, then become a woman I swear I never wanted to be.
“Get out,” I say, nudging my head to the door.
The woman laughs. “What?”
“Out!” I repeat, my voice unshakable. “And don’t come back. Ever!”
I place her age closer to Matteo’s than mine when lines scour her forehead. “Who do you think you are?”
Stepping closer, I use every ounce of my determination to sharpen my tone. “I’m Matteo’s fiancée.”
The woman’s face drains of color so fast that it’s impressive. Her mouth opens, then closes, then opens again, searching for a comeback her bewilderment won’t let her find.
She flicks her eyes to the maid, then back to me, hoping someone will tell her she misheard me.
No one does.
The maid places her hand on her chest, and her pupils dilate to the size of coins. Upon noticing my gaze, she whispers something in Italian that suspiciously resembles a prayer.